Coming Undone
by alpinfl
Summary: Martin and Danny are in a race to see who falls off the wagon first, but neither one realizes it yet.  Martin and Dannycentric with a dash of the others thrown in.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and am not making any money off this. :)

Coming Undone

Chapter One

Danny stood outside the restaurant, lit a cigarette, and silently congratulated himself on how well he had handled Elena's going-away party. In front of everyone, he had sincerely wished Elena well on her promotion to the bureau's new anti-terrorism unit in Washington and he had even gone so far as to buy two rounds of drinks in her honor. To the bureau's agents, and especially to Elena, he pretended as if he understood perfectly her reasons for wanting to leave the City (and by extension him) behind. After all, the traumatic events of two months ago involving her husband had shaken Elena severely. One night, she sat him down and calmly told him she needed space in order to focus on her daughter. Danny -- who had always excelled at being the sympathetic boyfriend -- gallantly assured her that he would wait until she was ready to try again. He had been expecting her to come back to him any day now when the bottom suddenly dropped out and she revealed her plans to move to Washington. Danny was stunned and had been operating on autopilot ever since. He took a deep drag on his cigarette and shook his head. Once again, ladies and gents, Danny Taylor had been played for a fool.

Just then the restaurant door banged open and Martin stepped out.

"Enjoy the party?" Danny asked glumly.

"Yeah, it was okay. Going to miss Elena though."

"Tell me about it," Danny agreed and tilted his head up to blow a smoke ring.

As if to change the subject away from Elena's leaving, Martin asked, "Explain to me why you started smoking again?"

"Old habits die hard I guess," Danny replied with a wry grin.

"I guess," Martin murmered. Slipping his car keys out of his overcoat, he said, "Well, I'll see you Monday, Danny" and turned toward the parking lot.

Danny was surprised to see Martin slightly unsteady on his feet. He mentally calculated how many drinks he had seen Martin consume tonight. A scotch on the rocks while waiting to be seated, but nothing after that.

"Hey, hold on a minute." Danny glanced quickly at the restaurant window and watched Elena gathering up her going-away presents. A knot of frustration welled in his stomach and he flicked his cigarette away in disgust. Then he turned his full attention back to his friend. He slapped one hand on Martin's shoulder and wiggled his fingers with the other, gesturing for the car keys.

"You're kidding, right?" Martin asked.

"Nope," Danny answered.

"I'm completely fine to drive," Martin laughed incredulous. "I only had one drink."

"In the restaurant, yeah," Danny agreed amiably. "But you must have forgotten about the two or three you had before you got here, right, brother?" Quieter now, "Or was it something else?"

Martin momentarily lost his grip on the car keys he was holding and they fell to the pavement with a clatter.

Danny helpfully bent over to retrieve them from the ground. When he straightened, he saw Martin was glaring at him.

"What are you talking about?" Martin snapped.

Other restaurant patrons had begun exiting, so Danny began pulling Martin toward his own car.

"You can't kid a kidder, son," Danny said softly.

-----

Danny unwound the driver's side window and lit another cigarette, the last of the pack. He sat back and watched as Martin fumbled with the heating controls.

After a few moments' reflection, he asked, "So which is it, Martin? Pills or booze? Or is it both?"

"Pills, but not the kind you think," Martin answered distractedly. "Seriously, Danny, how do you turn the heat on in this dinosaur?"

Danny ignored the insult to his car and repeated, "Not the kind I think. Okay, so what other kind is there? I know you like opiates. Did you switch to amphetemines when I wasn't looking?"

Martin shot him a look of pure disgust.

"It was anti-nausea medication," Martin growled.

"Anti-nausea medication," Danny echoed, unconvinced.

"Look, I had a touch of stomach flu this afternoon, but I didn't want to miss Elena's party so I got my doctor to call in a prescription. And, yeah, I know I shouldn't have had anything to drink tonight not knowing how the two would interact, but, you know, lesson learned and no harm done. Okay?"

"Well, that's a perfectly plausible explanation, Martin."

"Good!" Martin said and sat back comfortably in his seat.

"Unlucky for you I don't believe a word of it."

"Oh, come on, Danny! I've been going to NA meetings and I'm on guard for any kind of stress that could knock me back to square one. There's nothing to worry about here. I'm telling you, you're looking for something that's not there."

Danny shook his head slowly and turned the car's ignition.

-----

Both men remained stubbornly silent during the ride through the City until Danny suddenly made a sharp detour into a convenience store parking lot.

"Why are we stopping?" Martin asked.

Hopping quickly out of the car, Danny called back, "Just need to get some more cigs. Be right back."

"Well, can you at least leave the keys in the ignition so the heat won't turn off--"

The door slammed in Martin's face before he could add 'please.'

Well, that's just great, Martin thought to himself seriously annoyed. He dug around in his pockets looking for his gloves and came upon the anti-nausea medication he had told Danny about. He stared at the bottle and wondered. It was a strong medication -- stronger than he had anticipated -- and, yeah, he had neglected to tell his new doctor about his prior problems with pain meds, but how can you backslide when you were taking something that's simply supposed to stop you from vomiting? The answer, in Martin's mind, was that you couldn't backslide. And if you couldn't backslide taking something so harmless then this was nothing but Danny Taylor making a mountain out of a mole hill. Satisfied, Martin stuffed the pill bottle back in his coat pocket and waited for his partner to return.

-----

Inside the convenience store, Danny Taylor hovered at the front counter.

A young cashier, dressed in black, chewing pink bubblegum, and looking like a Goth from Hell, snapped, "So whadda ya' want?"

"Um, gimme a carton of Marlboro's and..." Danny hesitated.

Goth Girl rolled her eyes. "And? Look, I don't have all night, mister."

Danny glanced around at the empty store, but decided to let the remark pass.

"I was wondering if you have any of those small liquor bottles here? You know, the travel kind?"

Goth Girl sighed loudly and reached under the counter. She brought out a box filled with airline-sized liquor bottles and dropped it on the counter. "We got vodka, gin, and JD."

Danny looked at the bottles shining brightly under the flourescent lights. Was he really doing this? Actually considering throwing away nine years of sobriety because of Elena's leaving? He debated silently within himself over what to do. He knew intellectually what he should do. He should walk right out of here and call his sponsor immediately. But his heart and spirit felt so low that he craved just one bender -- just for tonight -- and then he'd go back on the straight and narrow again tomorrow.

As Danny wrestled with his decision, Goth Girl blew bubbles and wondered idly if the man standing in front of her was an escaped mental patient.

-----

Martin was just about to get out of the car to see what was taking Danny so long when he saw him walking out of the store.

Danny opened the rear driver's side door and carefully placed a paper bag on the backseat. Martin heard the clinking of bottles hitting each other, but thought nothing of it. He was focused on getting this pill business sorted out.

As Danny settled himself back behind the wheel, Martin said, "Look, Danny, you believe me I hope. About the medication?"

"Huh?" Danny replied, obviously distracted. "Yeah, sure, Martin, whatever you say. But you'll tell me if you think there's a problem developing again, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Martin said confidently, certain there would be nothing to tell.

Martin was so relieved about Danny backing off that he failed to notice his partner's hands trembling as he lit another cigarette.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and am not making any money off this. :)

_Author's Note: Thank you for the kind reviews! I totally don't deserve them, but they are appreciated for sure!_

**Coming Undone**

**Chapter Two**

Danny drove through the City, heading for Martin's apartment building. It had started to rain and the thumping of the windshield wipers as he paused at a stoplight was hypnotic. Lost in his own thoughts since leaving the convenience store, he hadn't noticed until just now that Martin had gone completely silent. He stole a sidelong glance toward the passenger seat and realized that Martin had fallen asleep.

_Or passed out. _

Danny sighed. He wasn't sure which it was, but he intended to find out.

The light changed to green and he drove on.

The bright City lights glanced off Martin's face intermittently, but he never stirred.

Pulling his car slowly up to the front of Martin's building, Danny shifted into Park, but left the engine on and the heater running. The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle. He rolled his window down and lit a cigarette.

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he called softly, "Martin?"

No answer.

He glanced over to his friend and tried calling a little louder.

"Martin, you're home."

When that didn't work he poked him in the shoulder. Repeatedly.

"C'mon, Martin, wake up."

"Hmm?" Martin finally stirred. He tilted his head toward the sound of his partner's voice and opened bleary eyes.

"Oh, right. Sorry, I must have dozed off."

Martin fumbled with his seatbelt while Danny watched. Eventually, his fingers found the release button and the seatbelt slid off his chest.

"Well, thanks again for the ride," he said tiredly.

Before he could reach for the door handle, Danny asked, "Out of curiosity, what's the name of that medication you're taking?"

Martin frowned in confusion. "Prome-something, I think."

"Prome-something?" Danny replied, taking a drag off his cigarette.

Martin fished around in his pocket until he found the bottle. He tried reading the label himself, but his vision was blurred and the light was poor. Finally giving up, he handed the bottle to Danny. "Here, see for yourself. It's not a pain med," he added, sounding slightly defensive.

Danny leaned forward so he could read the label by the light of the streetlamp.

"Promethazine, 25 mg, take 1 tablet by mouth every 8 hours as needed," he muttered.

Glancing over at his friend, he said, "And you're taking this for nausea?"

"Yeah, I told you, it's an anti-emetic."

Danny handed the bottle back reluctantly and murmered, "Well, your name is on it at least."

Martin froze. He had never admitted to Danny that he had stolen pain medication from a victim once -- once -- but it occurred to him now that Sam must have said something. That embarrassing chapter in his life happened months ago though. So to bring it up now...

"Look, I thought we'd settled this, but if there's something you want to say, just say it," Martin said sharply.

Danny eyed his friend warily, then turned to stare out the front window. The rain had stopped now and people were beginning to emerge on the sidewalks. Danny wondered idly if any of them were having as bad a night as his was turning out to be.

Martin waited, eyes glued to his friend's face. There was emotion playing there that he couldn't fathom. Wasn't this just a simple misunderstanding? If it wasn't, then it was suddenly extremely important to him that Danny understand -- and honestly believe -- that he wasn't backsliding.

Finally, Danny seemed to find whatever words he had been searching for. He turned to look at Martin and said in a rush, "I'm not saying I don't believe you, but we both know what you're capable of. In fact, your fondness for opiates almost got you killed a few months ago, remember? So while you might be telling yourself these kinds of pills are harmless, you need to be on guard to make sure you don't start using them as a substitute for getting high again."

Martin's mouth dropped open in disbelief.

"You...you honestly think I was trying to get stoned tonight?" he stuttered.

"I dunno, you tell me," Danny replied, searching his friend's face for any hint of a lie.

"I can't believe you!" Martin spat and then pointed a finger in Danny's face. "I haven't used in months and this one time -- one time! -- I take something that makes me a little tired you jump all over me!"

Danny raised his eyebrows in obvious skepticism. "A _little_ tired? I'd say you fairly passed out, Martin."

"That's bull and you know it!" Martin snapped.

"Is it?" his partner countered softly.

"YES! I just dozed off! Haven't you ever dozed off in a car before?"

Danny pretended to think for a moment and then answered sarcastically, "Yeah, sure, when I've been drunk off my ass and needed a ride home."

Martin dropped his head into his hands and closed his eyes. He silently counted to ten in an effort to regain his composure.

"For god's sake, Danny, I'm not drunk and I'm not stoned," he pleaded. "I'm just tired from having mixed alcohol with this anti-nausea stuff. You don't have anything to worry about. Why won't you believe me?"

"Because I..." Danny began to say and then suddenly stopped.

"Yes?" Martin asked, looking up with a pained expression.

Danny frowned in confusion. Nervously, he took another drag off his cigarette.

"Well, it's just that..."

When it became obvious that Danny wouldn't or couldn't answer, Martin grabbed the door handle of the car and quickly got out. At the last moment before slamming the door, he ducked his head back in and said in a rush, "I'm fine, all right? Yes, I screwed up tonight, but I didn't do it on purpose. So just let it go."

Danny watched miserably as Martin stalked toward the entrance to his building and then disappeared.

He slammed his hands against the steering wheel in frustration. Damn it! Maybe he was wrong about this. All of this. But if he wasn't...

Danny glanced at the paper bag waiting patiently in the backseat. Slowly, he reached one long arm over the back and plucked a small bottle from the bag. He was just about to unscrew the cap when a horn honked loudly behind him. He'd been parked there a little too long it seemed.

He could feel a migraine forming behind his eyes. Settling the unopened bottle gently on the seat that Martin had just vacated, he slammed the gear shift into Drive and sped off.

He'd waited nine years. What was another few minutes?


End file.
